


Lend a Hand

by enigmaticblue



Series: Birthday 'Verse [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia doesn’t like getting phone calls from the hospital under any circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lend a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt, “loss of limb/limb function.”

Cordelia rushes through the automatic doors to the ER at Good Samaritan, breathless and not a little worried. She’d been in the middle of filming an episode when the call from Gunn came, letting her know that Wesley was in the ER.

 

She’s fairly certain that everybody hates getting late-night phone calls from the hospital, but it reminds her of her days in Sunnydale, when any call might mean news of someone being skewered by a barbeque fork, or having major neck trauma, or some other injury peculiar to the Hellmouth.

 

There had been a reason she’d been happy to leave Sunnydale behind. There had been many reasons, actually; the lack of phone calls from hospitals had been one of them.

 

Still, Cordelia wouldn’t give up her connection to Wesley and Angel, even if it meant getting phone calls from the ER while she’s filming the final episode of the season, even if it means that she has to leave the wrap party.

 

Gunn meets her in the waiting room. They’ve come to an understanding in the last few months; Gunn accepts that Cordelia cares about Wesley and Angel, and Cordelia accepts that Gunn doesn’t quite trust the rich white girl from Beverly Hills.

 

At least they can agree that they both care for Wesley and Angel, and they will do whatever it takes to protect the two of them.

 

“What happened?” Cordelia demands.

 

Gunn shook his head. “Angel got a vision, Wesley got hurt. It’s the usual story.”

 

“How bad is it?”

 

Gunn sighs. “It’s his right wrist. He broke it.”

 

Cordelia closes her eyes, feeling an immense sympathy for Wesley, knowing that without his right hand, he’s going to be in even worse shape. “Dammit. Okay, well—”

 

“I don’t need to stay overnight!” Wesley’s voice floated out from an exam room down the hall. “I’m _fine_.”

 

Cordelia glances at Gunn, who’s already heading in that direction. She follows on his heels, walking through one of the curtains into the exam area, where Wesley is arguing with the attending doctor.

 

“If you leave, it’s going to be against medical advice,” the doctor says sternly. “The cast is going to make it difficult for you—”

 

“Having one arm makes it difficult for me,” Wesley hisses. “Having a cast on my remaining arm makes it even more difficult. Trust me, I’m used to things being _difficult_.”

 

The doctor glances at Gunn and Cordelia. “Of course, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I understand.”

 

“No, I don’t think you do,” Wesley shoots back. “ _You_ have two arms.”

 

Gunn steps in then. “Hey, Wes. You need a ride home?”

 

“It looks like I will,” Wesley replies. “I’m certainly not staying.”

 

The intern makes a face, but he leaves anyway, sending a, “Whatever you want,” over his shoulder.

 

Cordelia just thinks that makes the intern an asshole.

 

“Here,” Gunn says gently, pulling off his zip-up hoodie. “This will be easier.” He glances over his shoulder at Cordelia. “Maybe you can give us a minute.”

 

“Sure,” she replies immediately, going out into the hallway, eavesdropping shamelessly.

 

“You’re going to need someone to stay with you,” Gunn says. “You’re going to need help, Wes.”

 

“Charles,” Wesley says. “Dammit. It’s not that big of a deal.”

 

“Wesley, it really is.” Gunn says. “Until that cast is gone, you’re going to need help.”

 

Cordelia can hear Wesley sigh. “It’s six weeks, Charles.”

 

“So, we’ll work it out,” Gunn says. “Cordelia and I will take shifts.”

 

“Cordelia is too busy.”

 

Cordelia couldn’t let that go by without butting in, and she walked back into the curtained-off cubicle. “I just wrapped the last episode of the season,” she announces. “And I have two weeks completely off, so I’m all yours, Wes.”

 

Gunn smirks, and Wesley frowns. “You’ve got better things to do,” Wesley objects. “Surely—”

 

“Better things to do besides helping my friend?” Cordelia demands. “How selfish do you think I am?”

 

“You’re not,” Wesley immediately protests. “I don’t…” He trails off. “Cordelia.”

 

She loves it when Wesley says her name in just that way. “I think I promised a personal demonstration of my favorite method of relaxation.”

 

“Pajamas and bad reality TV,” Wesley murmurs. “I remember.”

 

Cordelia glances at Gunn, who shrugs. “Whatever you decide,” Gunn murmurs. “Cordelia and I will work with you.”

 

Wesley nods. “Thank you, Cordelia. I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

 

~~~~~

 

Gunn drives Wesley home from the hospital; Wesley insists that she attend her party. Cordelia had invited him, but he had graciously declined.

 

Cordelia is certain that he hadn’t wanted to deal with the heightened scrutiny and endless questions. Although Wesley has accompanied her to a number of functions, so far Cordelia has been able to deflect questions about their relationship by saying Wesley is an old friend.

 

She can deflect the questions, but not the looks—the looks that say they pity Wesley, and are impressed with Cordelia’s being so charitable towards the less fortunate.

 

Cordelia probably would have felt the same way at some point, but she knows better now.

 

When Gunn calls her the next day, he says, “Angel had another vision, but I’ve got some of my old gang to help out, if you want to come over.”

 

“Can do,” Cordelia replies, a little groggy, since she’s been sleeping. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

 

Gunn meets her outside Wesley’s building with the warning, “He’s in a bad mood.”

 

Cordelia shrugs. “I’ve seen him in a bad mood before.”

 

“Not like this,” Gunn replies grimly. “Trust me.”

 

It turns out that Gunn is right. Wesley speaks mostly in monosyllables when he’s not snapping. Cordelia soon gets tired of his attitude—after all, it’s not _her_ fault he broke his wrist—but she bites her tongue and is as pleasant and helpful as she can be.

 

But after the third time she makes the offer to help, and Wesley shouts, “I am _not_ an invalid!” Cordelia retreats into Angel’s room.

 

Angel might be crazy, but he’s better company than Wesley is at the moment, and she sits down next to him and listens to his incoherent ramblings.

 

“He’s in trouble,” Angel repeats over and over again.

 

Cordelia knows that he isn’t talking about Wesley, but she still says, “He _is_ trouble, you mean.”

 

Angel suddenly looks at her, his dark eyes sharp and knowing. “He needs you.”

 

Cordelia blinks back the moisture in her eyes. Angel’s brief moments of lucidity always touch her, reminding her of everything she’s lost, of a life she barely remembers but sometimes still longs for.

 

“Maybe you should tell him that,” Cordelia replies, but the moment has already passed. Angel rocks back and forth, saying that he should have known.

 

When she emerges, Wesley wears a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good patient.”

 

“Really?” Cordelia asks him with a raised eyebrow. “I never would have guessed.”

 

Wesley looks away, his face coloring slightly, and he gestures with his blue cast. “I don’t like being helpless.”

 

“You’re not helpless,” she insists.

 

Wesley shakes his head. “Then why is Gunn having to rely on his old gang for help? And why are you here, babysitting me?”

 

“Hey, I’m on vacation,” Cordelia reminds him. “I could be on a beach somewhere, and instead I’m here, with you. That means something.”

 

Wesley smiles, clearly pleased. “Thank you.”

 

Cordelia shrugs off his gratitude. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what do you say we watch a movie?”

 

~~~~~

 

Cordelia is grateful that she thought to bring an overnight bag, because she ends up staying at Wesley’s place that night and the following day. She trades off with Gunn again, but Gunn isn’t the sort to sit around doing nothing, and he calls Cordelia the very next morning.

 

“Can you come over?” he asks. “I got a call from a friend who needs my help.”

 

“Sure,” she replies, because she enjoys spending time with Wesley, and she has an idea for how to make him feel better.

 

“Thanks. I have to leave right now,” Gunn says. “I’ll call later.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Cordelia assures him. “I’m still enjoying my downtime.”

 

Wesley seems to be even glummer when Cordelia arrives, his irritation fading into despondency. Cordelia chivvies him into eating the sandwiches she’d picked up from the local deli, and then she feeds Angel before putting her plan into action. “Do you want some help with the shower?”

 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Wesley asks in a snide tone.

 

Cordelia deals with plenty of jerks in her line of work, and Wesley doesn’t even compare. “I’m trying to tell you that if you want help, I’ll give it to you.” Wesley frowns, and she can tell he wants to respond in anger, so she adds, “If it were me, I’d be dying to wash my hair.”

 

Wesley’s jaw clenches. For a moment, Cordelia thinks he’ll refuse, but his shoulders slump, and he nods. “Yes, thanks. I could ask Charles, but—”

 

“But Gunn isn’t nearly as much fun in the shower as I am,” Cordelia replies.

 

Wesley flushes. “Cordelia…”

 

“We’ve been friends a long time,” Cordelia says. “And I don’t want to lose that friendship, but I think you need this, and I need you.”

 

When Wesley swallows, it’s audible. “You’re certain? You won’t—” He glances at his empty sleeve. “It’s not pretty.”

 

“Let me be the judge of that,” Cordelia replies gently.

 

She leads him into the bathroom after she’s grabbed a plastic bag and tape to cover his cast. Slowly, she strips Wesley of his clothing. Then, Cordelia takes off her t-shirt and bra, watching as Wesley’s eyes focus on her breasts. She skims off her yoga pants and underwear in one move, and moves closer to Wesley.

 

Cordelia turns on the shower, and waits until the water warms before stepping under the water, drawing Wesley along behind her. She touches what remains of his left arm carefully, running her hand along his shoulder, and Wesley shudders under her hands. Cordelia presses a kiss to his bare, wet skin.

 

There aren’t many people in her life who need Cordelia like this—they might want her because she’s beautiful, because she’s rich, because she’s _Cordy_ —but they don’t need _her_. It’s been a long time—too long—since Cordelia has been with a man she trusts, someone she knows isn’t using her.

 

At first, Wesley is stiff and tense, but when she begins to wash his hair, he closes his eyes, his shoulders dropping, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.

 

When they’re both clean, she shuts off the water and immediately pulls him in for a kiss. He presses in close, and Cordelia can feel his hard length against her thigh. “Bedroom,” Cordelia gasps. “ _Now_.”

 

They stumble into the bedroom, and Cordelia tears the plastic and tape off from around his cast. Cordelia presses him back onto the bed, waiting until he ‘s stretched out and waiting for her touch.

 

And then she’s on top of him, her mouth on his, bare skin on bare skin. She can feel him straining to touch her, and Cordelia matches his desire, putting her hands all over him, touching him everywhere she can. She doesn’t mind doing all the work, not when she sees his face creased in pleasure, rather than in pain.

 

Cordelia finishes herself off and doesn’t mind a bit, knowing that Wesley is watching her avidly, the blue of his eyes almost completely obscured by his pupils.

 

After she’s come, and collapsed on the bed next to him, Cordelia presses her lips to Wesley’s sweat-slicked shoulder, just above the stump. “You okay?” she asks.

 

“Better than,” he assures her. “That was—thank you.”

 

Cordelia just smiles. That was, by far, the best sex she’s had in a long time, and she’s not sure whether that says more about her sex life or about her relationship with Wesley. “Thank _you_ ,” she replies. “That was wonderful.”

 

“You did most of the work,” Wesley replies self-deprecatingly. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

Cordelia runs a hand down Wesley’s chest. “You did more than you think.”

 

Wesley presses his lips to her forehead. “I know I’ve been a real pain,” he murmurs. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

 

Cordelia nestles in close, hearing his thundering heartbeat under her ear. “You’d do the same for me.”

 

His lips brush the top of her head. “It’s true. I would.” He clears his throat. “So, it’s not—it’s not ugly?”

 

“Nothing about you is ugly,” she assures him. “How long has it been, Wes?”

 

“I’m going to plead the fifth on the grounds that it’s been entirely too long.”

 

She hums. “Then I guess I’ll have to do the same.”

 

“I’d really like to hold you,” Wesley says wistfully.

 

“Hang on,” Cordelia replies, shifting around so that she’s on his right side, and grabbing a spare pillow for Wesley to rest his cast on. “Okay, try that.”

 

It takes time to find a comfortable position, but they manage eventually, and then Wesley’s breathing deepens, and Cordelia knows he’s asleep.

 

Cordelia smiles and follows him down.


End file.
